


No Filter

by thedarkestdaisy



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I hate Jason, Movies and Music, POV First Person, There will be smut.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-05 14:31:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4183407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkestdaisy/pseuds/thedarkestdaisy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey, kiddo.” It's the most wonderful voice that has ever graced this planet and I swear I could go without music my entire life as long as I got to hear his voice every single day of it. But I try not to let the grimace on my face show when I realize he's still calling me “kiddo”.</p><p>Charlie is a small time stand-up comedian with a dismal love life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Yes, I know I'm obsessed.

My cellphone buzzes in my hand. When I enter 2277 for the pass code I find Jason's text message.

I'm here.

I frown. This is suppose to be a date. I'm taking a break from my obsessive compulsive crazy love that doesn't know I exist (well that's not entirely true) to go on a date with this guy and he can't even get out of his car to knock on my building door to come up and get me? God, I knew I should have just said I was busy and stayed home to work on my next piece for Comedy Night at the Cafe.

But no, I took pity on him because he got incredibly drunk one night and approached me after my set, spilling all his secrets to me and anyone who was within fifteen feet of us. What else do you say to a guy who has been in love with you since eighth grade and you held hands with one time during a couple skate at the roller rink? Apparently not no because they start to cry about how no one has ever loved them and they knew you wouldn't take a chance on them.

I should have just stuck with my gut instinct when I saw his face at the bar; I could have just gone outside to hang out with all the smokers in their finest hipster hats but I can't turn down a friendly face. Or say no. There is a reason my mother calls me a Yes Man. I'm a people pleaser.

There's a distinctive sound of a car horn being pushed by an impatient driver and I hope I don't roll my eyes too much because I have a feeling Jason is going to piss me off multiple times tonight. At least you don't actually have to talk much on a movie date. Another car horn pierces the peace of my apartment and I grab my purse and lock the door behind me. When I get out of my building I feel the bite of the spring night air on my shoulders. I would go back and get my cardigan but fortunately for Jason I'm too lazy to journey back up four flights of stairs just because I'm getting goosebumps.

When I reach his car he doesn't get out to let me in, he just rolls down the window and tells me to hop in. Just how far in life has his pretty face and fine physique gotten him? The second I slide into the car the smell of cologne hits me like a wrecking ball to the face. Holy shit dude, you have got to be kidding me. When I exit this car I'm going to be smelling like the boy's locker room from our old high school.

“Hey Charlie,” He smiles over at me from the driver's seat. Maybe if I weren't so overly and secretively in love with someone else I might feel my ovaries explode like all the other girls in town who fall for him- but that won't happen. “You look pretty tonight. Too bad we're just going to the movies. I can't show you off when we're in a dark room.” He laughs at his joke as he pulls off the curb and turns onto one of the main roads. I instantly notice he drives like an asshole.

“Thanks,” I say awkwardly. My hand goes up to grab the Oh Shit handle bar just above the door as he makes an incredibly tight turn.

And then he turns on the radio. An old Weezer song comes on and I silently thank God for the fact that maybe the one thing we have in common is impeccable music taste. And then he frowns and punches a button on the radio until he stops on a rap song with a catchy beat but terrible words that actually makes me feel dirty and uncomfortable.

(Ima slut Ima slut. Ima slut slut slut. Gonna lick you down and mess you up. Ima slut slut slut)

How is this song even on the radio?

The drive to the theater is quiet save for the various stream of rappers yelling through the speakers about dropping a fifty, checking a dime piece, getting caught by the police, and banging that snatch. The second he puts the car into park my escape is swift. We walk to the theater from the parking lot and he makes a grab to hold my hand. I play the clueless card and reach for the phone in the back pocket of my jeans putting on a big show about turning off the volume. I hold back the shiver that runs down my spine when the coolness from the air conditioners hit me as we walk in and he catches the tail end of my shoulder shaking and looks down at his gray hipster sweater he probably got from that expensive vintage shop down town. I don't want it, I'd really rather freeze to death then wear that giant cologne sample so I offer to pay for snacks and he nods, asking for a medium popcorn and a bottle of water before heading to the ticket booth. The line isn't very long and it takes no time to get to the front. I order his water and popcorn and get myself a bag of gummy worms and a cherry Icee. Yes, I do have an insatiable sweet tooth.

I can smell him behind me before I actually feel his presence. He thanks me and grabs his treats and we make our way pass the ticket counter and into the designated screening room. The room is dark but not totally blacked out. We follow the lighted path up the steps and I bite back a sigh as he goes all the way to the top seats. Most people like it up there because they don't have to deal with others around them… or because they plan to get a little frisky. I don't fall into those categories. I prefer to be surrounded and enjoy the collective experience with everyone around me. I also have no problem turning around in my seat and telling the teenagers to shove a sock in it and stop kicking my seat before I dump my Icee on them. Once we get all the way to the nosebleed section he heads for the edge of a bunch of empty seats. We aren't even in the middle vantage point of the screen. This is just ridiculous. How on earth does he enjoy cinema?

People start filtering in and he turns off his phone and tries to make small talk that mostly centers on himself and the new job he got at the law firm. It's extremely obvious that he got it due to family connections. My father is also a lawyer at the firm but he doesn't work with Mrs. Neville because apparently she's a bitch. I'm inclined to agree. The more he talks the more I'm positive he's entirely unqualified for the research he's doing for them. The lights dim and the previews come on and I'm thankful he stops talking. The second Push movie with Chris Evans and Dakota Fanning has me jumping out of my seat. That was such an excellent movie and the comic books were worthy of the screen. I turn in my seat and begin to tell him this but he immediately puts on a polite smile and brings a finger over his lips to shush me.

Well, shit. I always and whisper and giggle with my movie going companions. This is going to be pretty damn hard to sit through if I can't joke around with the person beside me. A preview for Kardashians: The Movie has him nodding like he's excited to see it in three months. A few more couples come in and blindly search for empty seats in the crowd. The movie starts with a guy getting punched in the face and an explosion behind him. This is going to be one of those movies where you look around and see if anybody else finds it as dumb as you do. Jason doesn't have that look on his face. He's completely enraptured by the beginning of what's sure to be a shitty story. Who ever wrote this screenplay must watch a lot Cops because this car chase is just unbelievable on the worst of levels.

I sit back to open my gummy worms, get comfortable and work on pretending to be nice because I don't want to hurt his feelings and make him think I'm not enjoying our date. I'm not, but I don't want him to feel bad about it. Something happens on screen that makes the majority of the people around us bark out with laughter. There is someone in the crowd with the most God awful laugh that borders on the sound of a yowling wolf and a tiny screaming monkey. It makes me snort with amusement. Jason looks at me and smiles. Bless his heart, he thinks I thought that a part in the movie was funny.

Half way through the movie I'm making stories for the couples in the rows ahead of me when I feel his fingertips brush across the back of my hand. I can't conceal my frown but his eyes are trained on the screen ahead of us so he doesn't see it. I quickly make a grab for my drink and suffer through the brainfreeze. As long as he doesn't think-

And then his warm palm encases my kneecap and I try not to make a big production of squirming away from him. When he starts to inch it up my jean clad thigh I realize that he definitely falls into the two categories I steer away from and I need to make my escape before he thinks he can slide his hand up any further.

“Bathroom.” I stand up and grab my purse. He looks up confused and a little put out. “I have to pee. Like a race horse. On Lasix.” I hastily hop over two couples who politely move their legs out of the aisle for me. The second I hit the once plush carpet of the lighted stairway I try not to run down the steps like someone released from a prison of uncomfortable situations and bad dates with stupid vintage sweaters.

The second the doors to the screening room close behind me I notice the long hallway leading to the other rooms are empty. There is music still playing in the lobby and I can hear it softly through the little speakers spread throughout the ceiling. I pass several posters for upcoming releases. One is titled Sucker Punch and has a picture of Ben Stiller dressed like an over the top pro-wrestler in a fighting ring standing on a ladder and holding a metal folding chair above Vince Vaughn. If I don't see this movie before I die it will be the only thing I regret. Well, that and not having the body of my unrequited love all over mine. And maybe if he loved me back that would be awesome too. Impossible, but still very awesome.

And now I'm a little bit depressed.

I swing a left into the women's restroom. It's empty just as the hall. Everyone is probably getting fresh with their loved ones in the theaters. I snort to myself thinking about Jason. Sorry dude, but I'm gonna pass on that. I go to the first stall because I read somewhere people subconsciously avoid that one. Once business is done I thoroughly wash my hands while singing the ABC's to myself. It's a habit left over from when I was smaller and my brother was sick all the time. Due to that I developed excellent hygiene. New drugs for asthma and allergies that hit the market when he started middle school six years ago have miraculously cured him. I'm not one hundred percent sure my mother's pull with the DOD didn't have something to do with it. She does a lot for the government that my brother and I and maybe even my father were never made aware of. When I was a little girl I thought she was a secret agent. It wasn't until I got older and realized she was incredibly smarter than I first thought. Like Beautiful Mind smart. So she's probably a rocket scientist or something.

I dry my hands under the hot air machine and pause. I don't really want to go back to Jason just yet. Or his grabby hands. Calling Danny to give me an out later seems like a good idea but I don't want Jason to feel like I'm ditching him. Suppose I could wait and have Danny call me in twenty minutes with a fake emergency. The hall is empty so it's nice to meander along it looking at the light framed movie posters. ET 2: The Return Home. Taken VIII. Tarzan, Wild Man. Me and You Equals Eight. And Teen Titans- which I'm sure is going to be another large movie franchise. The benches in the middle of the hall are empty but suddenly my heart races before I even know why and there he is.

Hunched over on the last metal bench looking down at his phone. My body sort of stops working for a few moments. I have to make sure my breaths are even and not caught in my throat. My heartbeat is a sudden tidal wave that goes over my head and is loud in my ears. I'm pretty sure if I had my phone in my hands I would have dropped it on the floor right now. I feel like a mess of a human and sort of depraved just standing here and watching him instead joining him or walking away before he can catch me starring.

He looks… well he actually looks a little bored. But other than that he looks fantastic like always. From what I can see his jeans cup every angle and curve of him perfectly. His fitted long sleeved shirt is rolled up on his arms showing off those awesome muscles and the tattoo he shares with my uncle that I'm so jealous of. There have been a few drunken nights after my sets where I almost talked someone into taking me to a tattoo parlor so I could get a replica of it hidden somewhere on my body. Dark golden curls crown his head like some sort of Greek god and I should probably say something before he realizes I'm practically panting at his form like some kind of dove in heat.

I don't actually know if birds go into heat but I'm going to say we're like doves because they mate forever and that's what my fantasy of a happily ever after for us is.

“Bass?” My voice is small and cautious like I'm about to poke a sleeping bear.

He looks up and the second his eyes land on me I swear the lights get brighter in the hall. Or maybe I'm just in way too deep for the dude. Man, I feel a little sorry for him. We could be like the super couple Brangelina and have a million and one beautiful babies but he's almost twenty years older than me and prefers the women who drag him to the clubs where they serve overpriced cocktails and the dancefloor is open until two AM. Not the woman who is twenty years his junior, also practically his family, and does stand up comedy in hipster bars that he would never step foot in.

But he's awesome and I will never tell him any of these things. It's kind of awkward and painful enough to be around him when I know I can't have him but to actually be told he doesn't want me would crush my childhood and bedtime fantasies. Then he would stop coming to family functions and Miles would get pissed that I made it hurtful for everyone involved and fucked shit up so wonderfully

“Hey, kiddo.” It's the most wonderful voice that has ever graced this planet and I swear I could go without music my entire life as long as I got to hear his voice every single day of it. But I try not to let the grimace on my face show when I realize he's still calling me “kiddo”. It's really hard to masturbate and pretend someone has their face between your thighs when they call you names like Sport, Kiddo, Slugger, and Half Pint. At this point I would give my dominant hand away just to hear him say my name. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching a movie.” Duh. I smirk at him and he laughs. His laughter has been made by every single perfect pitch and huskiness sound could create. And yes, I do get an immense amount of satisfaction at making people laugh and chortle and chuckle. But when I make him do it, it's so much more than that. His is the only voice I wish I could bottle up and keep close to my pillow on lonely nights.

Yeah, I am well aware of how obsessed I am.

He tucks his phone into his back pocket to give me his full attention and gestures to the empty space on the bench beside him. I try not to run the last few feet between us. “I meant, why aren't you in the theater watching the movie?” The charming grin he gives me as he reiterates his words knocks the breath out of my chest. It feels like the first time I got on stage. Stuttering for air and buzzing with adrenaline. A new song softly starts on the speakers above us. The soft tinkle of the piano in the Toploader song makes my already large smile widen. I love this song. “Oh man. I love this song.”

He also has impeccable music taste.

Marry me now you hunky God of Olympus.

“Yeah me too." Time to change subjects. "So what are you doing out here fiddling with your phone instead of necking with some chick while she pretends to watch a romantic comedy?” I inquire to his night not so subtly. His eyes narrow like he's unsure he wants to tell me but I raise the infamous Charlotte Matheson Brow of Challenge. It always works on him.

“The movie is a complete and utter piece of shit. Every time I lean in to tell her something funny about it she gives me this scolding look that reminds me of my Mom. When I left her she was slurping the last of her soda pop loud enough that a white cat could hear it. Plus she has her feet up on the back of the seat in front of her. I don't know about you but that drives me nuts.”

“White cat?” I'm puzzled for a moment.

“Some strains of animals, such as white cats, have a tendency to congenital deafness.” Bass explains off-handedly.

“Oh.” I also love his large knowledge of useless facts.

“And you're listening to my dismal date story instead of watching your movie because?” He's back on track again.

Because I only want to be with you.

“My date is sort of a d-bag.” He frowns at me and I nod. “Yeah. And chivalry is dead and the only thing movie theaters are useful for now is to try and feel your date up in the dark. Because that's just so romantic, right? Not that I really want any romance from the guy. Or anything at all. I should have just stayed home tonight. I'm thinking of calling a cab, leaving my phone on my lap and having Danny call me with a fake emergency, and then high-tailing it out of here before the guy tries to do CPR with his tongue. It's pretty dismal on my end too.”

His eyes are wide. Bass told me once that he's amazed at some of the things that come out of my mouth. The bewildered look gracing his face proves the fact true. His jaw hangs open for a moment before he pops it shut and I'm suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to rub the pads of my fingers across the length of his somewhat scruffy jaw. I want to feel that on my face and under my lips. I bet that would feel amazing. I cross my legs and squeeze my traitorous tingling thighs. Bass' shock subsides and he looks down at his boot clad feet with a grin. He shakes his head and looks back up at me with a small smile.

“That's an elaborate scheme.” He's nodding like he agrees with plan so I don't feel as bad as I did when I came up with it while peeing. “Or,” he begins with a mischievous smile that makes me want to rip off his clothes and suck every part of his skin. “We could ditch them and I could drive you home right now.”

“Really?” I can't begin to hide my excitement.

“Yes.” He says standing up and pulling his phone out of his back pocket. His face lights up with the screen as he enters his pass code. Bass bites his bottom lip as he types something in a text message. When he looks back to me his eyes are still glowing from the screen and his lip is still caught between perfect teeth that I want to taste. “In fact, I'm feeling a little sick myself. I just might need to go home early too.”

No, he totally isn't ditching his date to spend time with me. He's just driving me home. But he's still ditching his date to do it. For me.

“Okay. I should...” I don't know. I can't think right now. Bass has suddenly become my knight with a totally squeezable ass and we are going to metaphorically run off into the sunset together. Now if only I could make him fall in love with me I would have it made.

“Text him a message that you're sick to your stomach and you're too embarrassed to make him leave and take you home so you called a friend for a ride. You're leaving right now. Have a good night and don't touch me again.” As the words leave Bass' lips his eyes become a bit darker and the words come out a little strained and heavier.

I whip out my phone and paraphrase Bass' words. I leave out the part about Jason not being allowed to touch me. My plan is to never let him get that close again. If I look at Bass while he's looking at me with his long lashes and bedroom eyes I'm going to regret what ever action I make or words come out of my mouth. I send the message to Jason and stuff my phone in my purse.

“Lets go then.” He grins and I have no choice but to grin back up at him. No, I'm serious. I have practically no control over my body when it comes to him.

When we get to the front lobby he holds the door open for me as we step out into the night. It's gotten cooler outside and my body shakes as it readjusts to the temperature drop. He notices and throws an arm around me, rubbing the shoulder of my right arm with his hand. Now that I'm enveloped in him I can feel his warmth seeping into my body. It's better than laying out under the sun's golden warm rays. And Dear Sweet Wonderful Almighty Jesus, he smells like a man. Like clean soap and leather and exotic spices. I want to drown in his scent. I want to rub my body all over him and purr in content like a cat. But I can somehow manage enough restraint not to do that.

When we get close enough to his car Bass releases me and I would be lying if I said he didn't shock me when he opened the door for me. I slide in with an appreciative smile and he gently closes the door before rounding to the other side. When he drops into the driver's seat next to me he immediately puts his seat belt on and looks over to check that I have mine on before starting that car. That's how it was with Bass though. He almost lost his Mom when his family got in a car accident. She was turned around in the seat scolding his little sisters when the passenger's side was struck with a giant Jeep by some kid who just got his driver's license and thought he could drive the eight blocks from his friend's to his parents' house high as a balloon floating to the stratosphere. He gives me a dorky thumbs up before slowly pulling out into the parking lot.

Bass is the most careful driver I've ever met. He's worse than my grandpa Gene. But I suppose it's only a mild irritation because he's actually going the speed limit as I usually go about five (or ten, like everyone else) over. The ride is quiet and a little awkward but not so much that I don't enjoy his company. He must feel it too because at the next stoplight he pauses to plug his phone into a little cord then presses a button on the console.

The sudden upbeat sounds of humming and clapping vibrating through the speakers have me dancing in my seat. I love Motown- only because I found out how much Bass liked it. So when I was in middle school and everyone was listening to My Chemical Romance and Evanescence I was jamming to Thurston Harris, Marvin Gaye, Jackson 5, The Supremes and anyone I heard that Bass liked. Since then my music tastes have grown but I have a soft spot for those oldies. It's something we can share.

“Little bitty pretty one...” Bass starts. I have no choice but to sing and clap and bounce up and down in my seat. He sings along and drums his fingers on the steering wheel. He glances at me out of the corner of his eyes and lets out a deep bellied laugh as I whip my head back and forth to the beat, uncaring of which direction my hair flies and how much I'll look like an electrocuted cat when the song is over. We come to the stoplight near my street and he gets in the turning lane just as the light turns yellow. He pauses and looks over at me while I hum and clap. His eyes shift and he laughs even harder. A car pulled next to us has a crotchety looking lady frowning at my awesome dance moves. The older guy in the seat next to her starts mocking my moves and she can't help but laugh at him. When the light switches green for us she is left smiling as we turn away.

Otis Redding croons through the speakers as he turns onto my street and I'm saddened that my time with Bass is so short. He slows the car down and pulls onto the shoulder of the road behind another tenants truck.

“Thanks for the ride home.” I say slowly, trying to lengthen my time with him for just a few seconds longer.

“You're welcome, half-pint. Just don't go on anymore dates with assholes, okay?” He reaches over to pat my leg once and I wish he would do more than that. I wish he would not call me half-pint.

“Yeah. Okay.” I sigh and unlock the seat belt. I open the door and I'm almost out of it until the troublemaker in me sees the opportunity as something golden and fleeting. I don't want to miss this chance. It's more than just the fact I want to get a reaction from him. Maybe I kind of want to dip my toe in and test the waters. “This is the part where you're suppose to walk me back to my apartment and I invite you in for something like coffee but instead we completely bypass the kitchen and head straight to my bedroom.”

A few minutes pass and Bass just stares at the steering wheel in front of him. Then he twists in his seat and turns to me.

Oh shit. I don't know why I said that. Why did I say that?! My mother always said the older I got the thinner my filter became. I should have taken her advice to keep my mouth closed because I have just ruined every future encounter for Bass and I for the rest of our lives!

He just stares at me and then his features slowly form into a confused frown. I've left him speechless in the worst way. The look on his face is damn hilarious but the reason of why it is there is something I'd rather like to forget now and never remember.

“I'm sorry. That was a joke. I just wanted to see what you would do. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.” Oh man, I can't stop talking. I'm on a fast downward spiral of shame. “I'm kidding- sort of.” OH MY GOD, I HAVE TO STOP TALKING RIGHT NOW.

I nearly fall to my knees on the dew covered grass with the intensity of throwing myself out the car. I run up the steps to my building and I don't look back. That was… that's not something I'm going to be able to come back from.

The four flights up give me time to think about what an incredible dumbass I am. The only man I ever wanted knows I want him and I now have his rejection to hang over my heart. My eyes burn as I walk the hall of my floor. When I come upon my door I let out a choke of sadness. I'm finally home where I can cry my eyes out in private. The very second I close and lock the door behind me I feel the first tear begin to fall. I nearly slap the thing off my face with the back of my hand. I strip on the way to my bedroom and fall into my pillow as if it were the comforting arms of my mother.

They say comedy comes from a dark place. I think I've just found what to write about for my next set.

Tonight I cry until my head pounds with a migraine and there is no hope of breathing through my stuffy, tear-filled and snotty nostrils.

I sleep with the lights on, too sad and tired to trek out and turn them off.


	2. I've thought about it a few times Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fall-out of Charlie's stupid proposition leaves her sad and lonely. There's no better way to get out of a funk than to tell everyone in a bar about it.

I awake with a minor heart attack at the blaring sound of my alarm across the room on the dresser. Alarm clocks- because every morning should start with major heart palpitations! Although I really shouldn't say morning. It's actually two in the afternoon. I can't let myself sleep past three otherwise I would feel lazy on top of incredibly stupid. My life has quickly gone to hell in one of those delicately woven antique hand baskets people's grandmothers collect. When I'm not working or spending time faking my happiness and wonderful life with the family I'm most likely in bed sleeping. It's such a better alternative to being awake and remembering things and trying to deal with the things I unfortunately do remember. And sadly I have a fucking excellent memory.

Almost three impossibly long weeks since I ran away from Bass' car. 

That's nearly twenty days and five hundred something hours since that crazy come-on fell out out my mouth like inappropriate sewage from a drainpipe. After that night I've been finding myself in the most mind-numbing of tasks with the sudden memory of how much of a complete idiot I am and my inclination to fuck shit up and take things just a tad too far. I'd be folding my laundry, on either the fourth or eighth episode (you never really can tell when you're binge watching) of the second season of Bob's Burger's, internet window shopping for a bigger bookcase that wouldn't be hard to get up four flights of stairs (which is impossible because everything is hard to get up four flights of stairs) during my lunch break, cutting vegetables for dinner- seriously, the most mind-numbing of tasks- and then I'd see his face, folded in with lines of confusion (and possibly repulsion) and I'm suddenly reliving that heart-breaking moment all over again and it just hurts. 

It feels like somebody took my heart and dropped it in a bucket full of scalding hot tears while at the same time another bastard is hitting my soul in the balls with sledgehammer and some other Cupid reject of an asshat is punching me in the grief bone and I'm crying and nobody can hear me because I'm terribly terribly terribly alone. 

It's actually pretty painful now that the entire moment and one-sided exchange has been engraved into my brain for the rest of my life. I can see his knuckles gripping the steering wheel so tightly they looked ghost white as he did everything he could to stare at the dashboard and not look at me. The way he bristled and his muscles and features tensed would be hot if he were about to do something like rip my clothes off and throw me into the backseat of his car, but I have a distinct feeling he was probably thinking of throwing me out of it. 

God, and when he finally did turn to look at me. 

I have never seen his face hold those features before and it broke my heart a million times over to realize it wasn't a good thing. Bass' lips were thinned out as if he were trying not to say anything that would further embarrass me, except at that point there probably wouldn't be a lot left to say or do. But then they parted as he came to realization and the shock wore off. His jaw hung low and his words- if he could think of any at the moment, were stuck in his throat. I took note of the way his brows folded but one was slightly raised. His eyes were still beautiful and blue and I have been drowning in the bottomless ocean of them ever since I was a kid.

And that's when I left him. Or rather when I threw myself out of his car and ran away from the terrible proposition I dropped on him like a deadly cartoonish piano falling from the sky.

It wasn't until a couple days later on Wednesday when he didn't walk in with Uncle Miles for family dinner at my parent's that I realized I didn't just embarrass myself, I embarrassed him too.

I never really got a choice when it came to family dinner nights. I skipped out on it once- just once, and my brother called to complain about how mom was making passive aggressive hits at me and my whereabouts all night and then getting a visit from her the next morning to ensure my well-being and then reading me the riot act up, down, and sideways about family time. When I showed up next week fifteen minutes early Miles laughed at me and Bass smirked until I stole his beer and took a seat next to Danny.

“If you want something from me all you ave to do is ask. You don't have to steal it.” He interjected looking pointedly at his beer bottle clenched in my hand with a pout. I wanted a lot of things from him then. Still do. The fear of wanting or asking for them always holding me back. 

Thinking back on that night I don't think anyone has ever stopped to pull Bass aside to explain what a mixed signal is. 

But he hasn't been coming lately because he knows the certain risk of running into me. That's really the only answer for his lack of presence. God, if Miles knew what I'd said to Bass the other night- even had a glimpse at all the dirty thoughts I have about his best friend in my head, Miles would probably shun me. Or kick my ass. Or make sure Bass and I were never in the same room again because then Miles would also know that when he smiles at me I flood my panties and have to physically restrain myself from ripping off my clothes and climbing him like a jungle gym. Even if Miles is covering for him and telling us he's working late and out of town for business, I know that's not true. Bass has always been here for family night. Always. Except now-because I have ruined that. I am a ruiner of good things. All hail the Ruiner. Fucker Up of Everything. 

That would look good on a bumper sticker.

I run to the bathroom and turn on the water for a bath. While the tub fills I meander into the kitchen and make myself a bowl of cereal. Yes, I will be eating my Fruity Pebbles in the bathtub. Other people my age are getting married and making and popping out babies and finishing their college educations… And then there is me- the girl who chills with a bowl of cereal in the bathtub. I frown to myself as my thoughts quickly get off track and turn to Bass. I bet he's into women who prefer cereals with bran flakes after their morning 5k. Someone who doesn't mope about her apartment and sleep in until two in the afternoon because she doesn't want to deal with the fact she's completely in love with him and there is nothing she can do about it anymore.

Shit. And there I go, thinking about him again. I don't even realize I'm doing it until I'm suddenly making myself sad and depressed. 

The bath is relaxing but the sugar and starch do nothing to ease the guilty pain of knots in my stomach. I can't get over it. I have completely lost myself in him and I can't get over him long enough to go through an entire day without his rejection of my affections seared into my mind. I have never felt so invisible and so unworthy of his love.

I wash up quickly and wrap a towel around my body. There is enough sense left in me to place the dirty dishes into the sink before going to sit at the corner of my couch. The best part, I learned, about no longer living in my parent's house is that I can pretty much do whatever the hell I want (see eating cereal in the bathtub). I stay up late binge-watching seasons of shows people keep telling me I'll love, I make spaghetti and have Chinese leftovers for breakfast all the time, I also sit on my couch and air dry. I think my mother would have a coronary if she knew just how uncivilized I live my life.

My phone buzzes on the coffee table beside me and I blindly reach out for it. I type 2277 on the touchscreen (I need to change that passcode now, like really really soon. But I know I won't because it means something to me. It's more than just a secret code to unlock my phone and media presence. It's him.) Nora has left me text message about Comedy Night at the Cafe.

Nora

Are you coming to do a set tonight like you mentioned last week? I had a few people ask me if you were ever going to come back to the stage last night. I think you may have a few followers. ;)

I scrunch my nose in distaste at the idea of having followers. I'm sure it was just some guy looking to get in my pants and not someone who genuinely wanted to hear me talk about my struggles and how awkward I am at trying to become an adult. Because adulting sucks and I find that I'm not very good at it. Like I seriously suck some big ones at it. I should not have been let out of the house to roam by myself so early. There is still some pretty stupid shit I do that should require me to have adult supervision (see eating cereal in the bathtub. No, fuck that. See the shit that spewed from my mouth like a diarrhea geyser to Bass the other night!).

My fingers fly across the screen as I tap out a response.

To Nora  
I'll be there. I don't really have a lot to say but I'll get on stage for a few minutes. But whether I'm actually funny or not depends on the state of my sobriety. See ya later!

And then I toss my phone on the coffee table and forget about tonight for as long as I can. 

The state of my sobriety is true. I'm an awesome drunk. It's not that I say things I wouldn't normally say, because I do that all the time- I don't care what comes out of my mouth as long as it's always truthful and doesn't hurt anyone. But when I get tipsy I start doing things I wouldn't normally do. (Seriously, I've done some really fucked up shit.) Like two drinks in and I'm feeling pretty good; all is right and well in the world. Then you throw in some shots and bad ideas don't really seem like bad ideas, just challenges I totally want to overcome. Add a few more mixed drinks and I briefly start to feel pretty shitty and giggly (I call it my Shits and Giggles phase) and the world, though right and well, starts to move around me like twisted images of smoke. Then end the night with a shot of Fireball and I totally lose my shit. Fireball fucks me up harder than any man ever could. It doesn't last long because soon after that I become a fucking Supernova and nothing sounds like a terrible idea because everything seems doable. Everything.

Those two chicks that cornered me after one of my first sets last year? Yes, I totally made out with them. At the same time. There are pictures on my phone to prove it. Have the bartender properly teach me how to spit fire with Bacardi 151? Yes, I did that. Though I don't fully remember doing it. I also scaled up the side of a friend's apartment building at an after party like the freaking Batman. Like I said, Supernova.

Somehow I feel like I'm taking an even bigger risk tonight. I'm talking about something that I've kept buried in my heart up until about three weeks ago. But something I've learned from all the great comics is that they speak from life experiences. Most often than not really terrible awful life experiences that need a silver lining and laughter. That's what comedy is for me. A way to say everything I can't bottle up without getting too much shit for it. It's incredibly therapeutic and practically free compared to visiting a therapist. 

I watch a few episodes of Community to pass t&e time because I understand Annie's struggle to balance her one-sided love and friendship with Jeff. It makes my eyes burn with unshed tears but it eases my psyche. But then they kiss and he pretends that nothing will ever happen because she's a child to him- and so very dear to him, like a little sister (but people usually don't make googly eyes at their little sisters) and he's not the right type of man for her. The urge to throw the remote hard enough at the t.v. to embed it into the plasma flatscreen is daunting and heavy. THEY ARE PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER! I turn the television off with a huff and stalk to my closet in order to find something suitable to wear. 

Half the contents of my closet and dresser are spread out over my bed within the span of thirty minutes. Glaring at the clothing and hoping the perfect outfit will hop off the bed and onto my body is futile. I could stare at the pile of clothes for hours and still wear the most weather inappropriate thing. But I feel the need to dress up a little bit tonight. For myself, of course. I settle on a little purple dress. It goes just above my knees and the sleeves cover my arms down to my elbows. Little yellow and gray daisies make a floral pattern all over. It's cute, probably the cutest and girliest thing I own (besides that little black dress that makes me look like I'm begging for it).

I take extra time to put a little more make-up on. I darken the lids of my eyes with a small amount of eyeliner and some mascara. My eyes fall on the tinted pink lipstain I bought on a whim but never use. Fuck it, lets go all out. It looks decent actually. I look… better than I have in three weeks, that's for sure. I part my hair on the side and smile as my soft waves of natural curl shine in the bathroom light. I have pretty hair and I like to make it look nice and wavy like I'd just stepped out of the eighties. But this is probably due to that fact my mother has fawned and awed over it for so long. I don't see the need to ever straighten my hair because it twists and curls beautifully, just like my mother's.

I slip on my gray converses shoes (just because I'm wearing a dress does not mean I'm going to sacrifice my feet for comfort) and grab my purse. After locking the door I put my key in my purse and check that I put the folded piece of paper in a side pocket. It has all my thoughts and feeling (and little spots of tears near the top and bottom, if we're being honest) scribbled in my fast writing. I won't need to read off of it like some comedians. Most of the time I just improve my words and feed off of what the crowd laughs at. I've found I'm a decent comedian. I've never been booed off and everyone always laughs at least once. A few month ago someone even approached me about opening for a few comedy acts in Portland. I said no. Because Stranger Danger, duh.

When I get outside the sun is low in the sky and the world around me is tinted pink and orange. And also my legs are kind of cold from a the light breeze. Seriously, I will never be dressed correctly for the weather! But it's beautiful so I shake off the chill and take in my surroundings as I walk. There are five bikes thrown haphazardly in front of tge yellow house and I can hear the laughter of teens drifting through an open window. The blown neon glass sign above the gas station has another letter out. Instead of saying SHERMAN'S it brightly says S E MAN'S in green twisting lights. I dig my phone out of my purse and snap a picture before sending it to Danny. This is the kind of thing that makes him giggle. Well, me too- because I'm immature like that- but mostly him. The rest of the walk is peaceful with no surprises or signs with dirty words.

The bar is only three blocks away and one street over. I don't go to any of the other bars in town because I have grown to love everyone at the Cafe. Miles mentioned once that his friend, Nora, owned the place and since it was so close to my apartment I decided to check it out on night. Since then, I'm pretty sure the female bartender wants to do the horizontal hanky-panky with me because no one has ever looked at me like they want to lick up and down my body while they slide my drink across the bar to me with a flirty wink. And she only really does it with me. I think she knows it makes me a little uncomfortable, especially because I'm not bisexual (except maybe when I'm drunk?) so she goes out of her way to make me blush. Adam, is a regular that attends more frequently than not. He hosts Karaoke Night and always attends Comedy Night. He's the guy who can spot the newbies looking for friends or just a good conversation and immediately pulls them into his group of friends. Yes, I was totally one of those newbies. Mia, Nora's little sister, is usually found there too. I sit with her and she always has this running commentary on the new people who come in. At first I thought she was just a total bitch up and down but she actually just has a very dark sense of humor. Since I've been coming in she's been a lot nicer to me now and even seeks out my company. 

When I get to the bar a few people are going inside and I have to side step two women who are falling over themselves just to lean against the building and light a smoke. I can hear people already. And then when I get to the door I see there are actually quite a bit of people here tonight. I don't have straight fright anymore (well, not much of it at least) but this is like twenty more people than I'm use to. I walk inside under the glowing sign of THE CAFE and I'm immediately face to back with someone. There's like a limmit for the amount of people who can occupy this place, isn't there? Are we just completely throwing that out the window?

A hand snakes out from someone's side and I'm immediately being pulled into people's bodies before I can murmur an apology. I see Mia's curly dark hair and her back as she walks to the back room of the bar and tows me behind her. I hit countless people on my way with my shoulders and elbows but they seem to realize Mia's doing all the pushing and shoving so none of their dirty looks are directed to me. When we come to a stop she shoves me into an unoccupied chair at a nearly empty table, Adam grins up at me from his beer bottle. He has his stupid hipster glasses on. He has perfect vision and they are stupid and big. You don't look like a nerd when you wear them. You look like you went through a box of your parent's and grandparent's things and stole their clothing and accessories. I don't say anything though. I still wear my grandma Porter's locket. I'm not a hypocrite. A little obsessed over my now not-so unrequited love, but never hypocritical.

Mia has on a little black dress more suited for the clubs downtown than the bars but she always dresses in tiny clothes. Mia is also beautiful so she could wear a used garbage bag and make it look chic. Adam consistently looks like he's stepped out of a nerdy version of Gentleman's Quarterly. I think he goes to bed in fedoras and bow ties. Like one of those I Woke Up Like This people. Mia sits next to him and pops a kiss on his cheek. She leaves a neon pink set of lip prints on him that he doesn't feel the need to wipe off. 

“You haven't done this for a while.” Adam points out. “Nora told Mia you would be doing a small set tonight so I had to come out and see you.”

“Thanks,” I grin. Adam supports everyone and is all things good and nice. He is a total opposite of Mia. It explains why they are constantly flooding my Facebook together with selfies. They are the perfect mix. “Hopefully, I won't make anyone choke on their drink like last time.” I already have Mia and Adam laughing. Tonight should be a piece of cake on a plate of brownies covered in strawberry ice-cream. Wait. Hmmm. I should've had more to eat than a bowl of cereal to eat today.

Meg, the bartender, pops out from the sea of bodies to place a hand on my shoulder. She squeezes it and rubs her thumb against the side of my neck. My face must show my shock and discomfort because Adam's brows are raised and his lips are pursed like he's eaten a lemon and is trying so very hard not to scream with laughter. Mia frowns openly up at her. Meg places a mixed drink in front of me (all performers get free drinks. If you're in the band or doing comedy, that is.). It tastes like grapefruit and Nora always makes sure she has the juice and alcohol in stock for it because it's so wonderful and I have at least one every time I'm here. I say my thanks and give her a smile (and hope she doesn't take it meaning that I want to grind her ladyparts with my ladyparts). She leaves me alone with an air-kiss and a wink. Mia glares at her retreating form and if the people in the room weren’t so loud I'm sure I would hear her mutter the word “slut” under her breath. Soon, Nora has people moving tables and chairs to surround the stage at the absolute back of the room. The Sound Guy (because as long as I've been coming here I still don't know that he actually has a name) sets up the mic and stand and does whatever Harry Potter magic is required to make that mess of cords and speakers around the room work. People seat themselves at the tables in large circles. Tables that traditionally seat six are seating eight and ten. That's… a lot more than I'm use too.

“Oh, look. Charlie's getting cold feet?” Adam teases me. Before I can open my mouth to snap back at him Nora gets on stage. Everyone is the crowd cheers. Mia throws her sister a wolf whistle. We love her, of course. We call her Mamma Bear. She takes care of us and has a genuine interest in the lives of her regulars. It isn't just a bar-owner thing either. It's a Nora Clayton thing. She's huge figure in the community. Nora helps fund the annual Halloween-Fest in town every year and donates money to the Allied Arts Council on behalf of the bar. If someone's having a bad day she will stop what she's doing and talk it out with them. If someone is hardly able to stand on their own two feet she makes sure that person gets home safely. She always finds me at some part of the night to ask me how I'm doing. Nora Clayton is consistently an outstanding human being. It's no wonder uncle Miles' eyes light up when he talks to me about her. He needs to lock that shit down. 

Nora announces the beginning of Comedy Night at The Cafe and all the hipsters and suits (because for some odd reason businessmen and women are getting off work and coming directly to the bar) and newbies starting woo-hooing. She smiles graciously and waits until the crowd calms down before introducing the first comedian. It's a young white man with a ginger afro channeling Will Smith circa Fresh Prince.

He talks about the horrors of his girlfriend having periods (and yes, he's an asshole about it), the first time he had sex, and how his band is just insanely awful at putting a song together. At the end he walks off with machismo as the crowd loudly claps and hoots for him. There are a lot of people here but I can tell when someone is getting a pity clap. Meg brings me another mixed drink of wonderful alcohol.

The next comedian introduced is a small Asian woman with purple hair and a Little Mermaid dress. I love her already. Kim goes on to tell us about her first job as a waitress. It is awful and filled with many assholes she'd dealt with on a regular basis. I particularly love the story she tells us when she had a consistently angry costumer who never wanted to eat anywhere else and would keep her at his table to rant about all the problems with the restaurant. Until one day another repeat costumer came over to his table and told him off. They married six months later and Kim was one of the bridesmaids. It was the way she delivered the plot twist of the Asshole customer marrying the Had It Up To Here costumer that had people choking with laughter and chuckling under their breaths.

Everyone claps loudly for her and she gets a few whistles (one from Mia) as she steps off the stage and goes out the back door to light up. Nora graces the stage again and everyone is in such a wonderful mood I can feel the claps and cheerful hoots in my chest. Her eyes turn to me as she announces me on stage. People start clapping and screaming before I even get up from my chair. I look down to Adam and Mia like what-the-hell? They shrug their shoulders. I roll my eyes in a silent response and throw Mia my purse before taking a big gulp of my drink then throwing back the shot of Fireball Nora snuck onto a coaster in front of me before walking through the crowd. I wipe the stray drops of liquor that escaped the corners of my mouth off my chin.

Nora pats me on the back after I step up the stage and take my place behind my microphone. I didn't see Jason here tonight and Nora is pretty awesome at keeping secrets so I take a deep breathe and begin.

“Hello! Good evening to those of you still sober enough to remember where you're at.”

The crowd laughs and settles in for my set.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has anyone figured out 2277?  
> Next chapter will have tons of Bass. And maybe even a naked Bass?


	3. I've thought about it a few times Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fall-out of Charlie's stupid proposition leaves her sad and lonely. There'a no better way to get out of a funk than to tell everyone in a bar about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's not that many effing synonyms for the word "Laugh", I have found.

“Hello! Good evening to those of you still sober enough to remember where you're at.” 

A few people laugh and settle in to their seats.

I take a deep breath and begin.

“No, I'm serious. It's only a little after nine and when I got here an hour ago there were already two chicks outside leaning against each other swearing they would never, _like ever_ , take so many shots of whiskey again. Putting aside the fact they they only had shots of whiskey- I would just like to point out that they said the exact same thing about Captain Morgan last week and I'm beginning to think they keep forgetting their end of the night resolutions because I can quote that conversation verbatim, because I've heard it ten times at the least.” I give a the crowd an exasperated grin because I know the regulars agree with me. Someone shouts out a “Hell Yeah!” and for some reason and everyone around them starts laughing. 

“You know you're in a good place between tipsy and black-out drunk when you completely forget conversations you had yesterday evening and why your fuck-me pumps look messed up because you decided to risk exposing yourself to go on the predator's list to crouch down and pee on the sidewalk next to some poor souls car.” I hold my hand up to get the chance to finish my thought when I hear the rumble of laughter begin. “I heard that happened last time so I think someone should probably go out and check on them before they wander off into traffic.”

A few giggles can be heard at one of the back tables claimed by busienesswomen in pantsuits and pencil skirts. The regulars chortle openly, well aware of the two female regulars constantly getting cut off and leaving the bar in an angry huff of high heels and noxious perfume.

While the crowd settles my eyes scan the room for any sign of Jason. Chances are split somewhat evenly that Jason may or may not be here. He's not a regular so he doesn't really have friends to hang out with but he knows I'm somewhat of a regular so he may also show up tonight. But I don't see him at any of the full tables or leaning against the front or side walls that are quickly filling up with more dark-lit and neon colored people. So we're good. For now.

“How many of you have been on a bad date?” There is a collective groan from the audience. I smile and nod my head in sympathy. “Yeah, I feel like we all have a quota of bad dates we're suppose to complete before we kick it. Well, I just had my first official bad date a few weeks ago. And I realized something,” I say with a frown, my tone going soft and self-effacing. “Dating an asshole is just as sucky as being lonely. More so even. Like I kind of want to have a relationship with something outside of my couch and my Netflix account but I don't want to have to put a lot of effort into it. Like if we could go out to play laser-tag and you _not_ touch my ass until I give you a thumbs up and we get lost in each others eyes, that would be splendiferous. Or maybe our eyes meet across the crowded bar room and the first thing that come out of your mouth _isnn't_ about my body or your body or anything relating to fornication. That would be the bee's knees and any and all joints that insect has. It would be a girls' dream come true.” I give a hopeful sigh to the microphone and wink at a lady covered in tattoos who screams at me to “preach it, sweetheart”. “I mean it's been a while since I've dated but for some reason I forgot that first dates meant a clear run to home base. Or perhaps I missed a group memo that we have all turned into to slut-bags and raging toolboxes.” 

I sigh wistfully into the microphone and laugh with the people at a front table.

“Or maybe I'm just old fashioned and prefer not to have sex with near strangers. Perhaps I'm an odddity and just born in the wrong time? And who knows? Maybe one day I'll get with the program and start dropping my pants for anyone with a nice smile who can retain eye contact with me for over ten seconds before they start asking me if I know what the man with the biggest dick had for breakfast that morning… before he starts to list off his morning meal of choice.” 

I wait for the chuckles to die down before taking a deep breath and continuing.

“Actually that's a real pick-up line someone has tried on me before. And for that matter I'm sort of confused about pick-up lines altogether. I guess it's like some funny way to break the ice, but to me it's just a scary come on. I don't want to hear how you want to follow me home because you forgot the way back to your place. I call that stalking. That's not cute in any form. It makes me stay up all night with a kitchen knife under my pillow like some crazy insomniac. And if you actually make it past that awkward stage and I speak with you for more than five minutes you are not allowed to tell me how much your folks would like me. Let's be honest here. I _am_ incredibly awesome but I doubt your parents would find my current obsession with Thuglife Cat videos on Youtube very endearing or that eating my Wheaties while taking a bath is a good life choice.”

I'm surrounded by the raucous laughter of mostly females. 

“And that's why I don't date. Because all you weird motherfuckers make me feel like I should be packing pepper spray in my bra and you honestly just creep the absolute shit out of me.”

Everyone roars and it's so loud I can feel the vibrations in my chest. God, it's like the best kind of a high. I make a show of clearing my throat and grinning widely when they slowly start to quiet themselves.

“Ya know, we all have that one person- or _thing_?” I say pointedly with confusion at a young man seated at one of the front tables. He looks at me blankly and then his buddies realize I'm talking about him before they start roaring with laughter for no good reason other than attention and good-naturedly slap the blushing man on his back. He turns red in the face and I smile at him before going on. “That sexually awakens us.” The roaring turns into straight up howling from his table and even I have to laugh at the unfortunate implication I brought on the young man. One of his dark-haired friends leans over the table as tiny streams of beer runs out of his nose.

“For Kim it was probably Prince Eric or Simba. For my friend Mia it was David Bowie in Labyrinth- because what human could possibly resist that smoldering glittery gaze and the erotic way he thrusts and gyrates his pelvis? I know my pre-teen self got confusingly hot and bothered. I think that was about the time I had the Birds and Bees talk with my mom. Which pretty much went along the lines of: If you have sex you will have a seizure and die. If you think about sex you will have a seizure and die. If you start to drink or smoke you will have a seizure and die. Yes, I know. She's a lying liar who lies and often wears pants that are set aflame. But for me...” I suck a deep breath in to fill my lungs. 

I don't think I'll ever be ready to get this off my chest but I know this is the best way to do it. This might be the only way I can get over him and let the spark die out. Speak about him as if he is nothing more than just another man. That his presence doesn't send my body into sexually repressed shivers and his voice isn't the only one I have memorized so well that I can imagine it saying how much he loves me. That he doesn't mean more than everything in the world to me. I unhook the microphone off the stand and hold it loosely in my hand. It's hard to look at the audience so I look down at my shoes and the booze stained carpet covered stage.

“For me it was my Uncle's BFF for E. He would come over all the time and just hang out at the house. He became a part of the family and I fell in love with him before I learned how to spell my own name. Which is made even more sad due to the fact I learned how to spell his before mine. And it's funny because when you're young you want to marry your Daddy and sometimes your Mommy but I just wanted to marry Bass. They thought it was just one of those cute little girl phases like Disney Princesses or the Hot Lava Game or butterfly hair clips. But it wasn't. I didn't want him to ever leave because if he wasn't with me it was like nothing existed. When I was little I planned our entire wedding. Looking back I realize that was probably where I became obsessed with him. I would wear the Thumbelina costume I got for Halloween. Our giant sparkly cake would be shaped like a princess castle.” I gestured with my hand a foot above me to show them how tall my cake would be. “And at the reception there would be pony rides because I never got to have any at my birthday parties when I was younger. And we would kiss and live happily ever after like doves in the gorgeous glowing sunset of my backyard.” 

A titter of giggles come from somewhere in the back beyond the blinding lights and it's enough to let me laugh at myself too. 

“When I got older and I had to start figuring out what to do with my life- figure out where my path leads- I would jokingly say that I still want to marry Bass and get my princess cake and wear my Halloween costume, even though at sixteen I knew I shouldn't be saying stuff like that and I wouldn't fit it. But I never outgrew Bass. As a child I thought of having his babies and playing Barbie Dream Home with him- only like in real life. Like even now, as far as I'm concerned we're _still_ engaged because of that one time he put that plastic neon blue ring on my finger and saved me from the evil Lava King in the living room during the ice storm.” The audience laughs and I turn to Mia and Adam. They're giggling along with the audience. “But how do you tell someone that you've been ready for the holiest of matrimonies with them ever since you learned about weddings on Sesame street from Big Bird when you were four and now all you can think of at work is riding their face like Nascar?” My voice goes a pitch too high and I join in the laughter of the people around me so my painful confession doesn't seem like it's really a painful confession and more like a wacky life story.

The chuckles don't die out so quickly this time and I narrow my gaze around the room to take in the smiles of everyone. But then my face freezes I feel like I'm going to go into convulsions or possibly have a massive heart attack. Or maybe both and then spontaneous self-combustion.

Because there he is. Leaning against the back wall next to a few guys and holding a bottle of beer.

No. That totally isn't Bass. That man that looks exactly like Bass can not be Bass.

My first thought is that this is a hallucination brought on by the small amount of alcohol I imbibed tonight. There is no way he would be here. He would never come to this bar. He should be off somewhere grinding to a disgusting club beat and buying ten dollar cocktails for his vapid soon-to-be Stepford Wife. Maybe he's like some delicious doppleganger? But he's staring me down like that kid in Firestarter and I'm pretty sure my entire body will be bursting into flames of humiliation any second. It should be, I can feel it heating up. He looks pissed and I feel my face start to sting hot like it usually does before I burst out into tears. I warily raise my hand in a gesture of recognition to him and pray to anything that would be willing to buy my soul so as long as it saves me from the complete and absolute mortification that the man across the room is not the one from my dreams.

His lips tighten, his browline folds and he raises his hand in an identical gesture.

**Cock sucking mother fucker fucking shit.**

It's him and… I don't know. I can't think beyond the pressure in my head, the suffocation in my chest, and the watery gaze that clouds my eyesight. Before I take in the first painful gasping breath I unceremoniously drop the mic and then I'm off the stage and tearing my purse out of Adam's arms when I notice him standing off to the side, ready to pull me out of the spotlight.

I barrel my way through people and throw the door open that Kim had disappeared through earlier. A few people are huddled together and smoking in groups look at me with slight confusion and worry but the only thought I have is to get to my apartment before I shatter into a nine million minuscule pieces. I become completely uncaring as I start to make my way down the ally behind the bar. The gasps of breaths quickly become air-sucking sobs and I can hardly make out my name being screamed into the moon-lit night by Adam or Mia. Someone is yelling but I can't look back, afraid of what I've left behind. Again. 

There is a monster of confrontation on my heels and the only thing I've got going for me is my awesome skill of avoidance. I walk as fast as the tears fall before I'm suddenly being wrenched backward by a vice-like grip. I can hardly see beyond the strands of hair that stick to my tear soaked chapping cheeks. I pull back, nearly yanking my shoulder out of socket and take a deep breathe to yell out until a large hand covers my mouth and all my cries. I can see him lightened by the streetlight behind the bar's parking lot. 

Bass looks beautiful. The sleeves of the blue collared shirt are rolled up to his elbows and his black slacks are perfect lines and angles. His golden curls fall lightly against the top of his forehead and his eyes are so fierce and bright I have to look away from everything I think I see in them. The two little parallel lines that form between his eyebrows when he's angry makes me weep and struggle to pull my wrist from his grasp. He lets go of my mouth but his hand is like an anchor on my wrist. There is no way he's letting me go this time.

“I'm sorry! I'm so sorry. Please don't hate me! Please- please don't hate me Bass!” My words don't even sound like they form a complete sentence as they trip and fall over hiccups and chokes. It doesn't even sound like my voice. It's all hoarse and desperate and so very very mournful. I know this is the end of anything I have created with him. There will be no more Bass in my life now. He takes his free hand to wipe the stray locks of hair from my cheeks and lifts my chin to hold it in place. I try to pull back and look away but his grip tightens into something near painful. Bass stares down at me and sighs with exasperation. “I love you,” I'm practically vomiting out my feelings at this point. “Please don't hate me for loving you.”

“Shit.” I hear him say under his breath before he pulls me into his warm arms. I've dreamed about being in this spot. Held tight, against his chest and inhaling his scent in. No part of that fantasy involved me raining tears on him and choking on my own breaths while he patted and stroked my hair in an effort to calm me down. I think I can feel myself breaking apart. “Just breathe, doll. It's alright. I'm not mad at you and I could never hate you. I'm… no, I could never hate you.” He whispers different versions of those words over and over to me. He holds me close like he's sure I'm going to sink through the asphalt beneath our feet.

“I never- I never should have said that to you in the car that night.” I mumble into his hard and tear stained chest. My face wrinkles into sadness when I feel his chest shake with silent laughter. I don't know why but I feel ashamed of myself. 

“Maybe. But I think it prepared me for everything I heard tonight.” His voice is deep and calm. I feel the exact opposite. I feel like he is the serene and unmoving middle eye of a storm and I am the hurricane that surrounds him. Violently shaking with outbursts of damaging emotions but some how none of it touches or disturbs him. I don't know how he manages it, this tranquility. But it sinks its hooks into me and I have no choice but to let it ebb my fearful thoughts and heartache. It even makes me snort at his easy tone. God, I didn't think I could love him more than I did but I'm finding now that I do. I will always be loving him more.

“You weren't suppose to be here tonight. You were never suppose to know anything.” I push back from his chest and risk a glance at his face. His brows are no longer folded in what I thought was an extremely pissed off look. Bass' brilliant eyes capture mine and I see no hate or pity there. Knowing that he thinks nothing less of me is a balm to my soul. He slides his arms around me to circle my shoulders and holds me close. I relax in his arms and then a corner of his lips tilt up in his Magnificent Little Shit way. And then my breath hitches in my chest like some cheesy swooning part of Gone with the Wind and I feel my body heat up with a different kind of fire. I have to look down at the...well actually there is no space between us (don't roll your hips, do not roll your hips into his no matter how good he smells and firm he feels) but I have to look at something other than his boyish smirk or I will hop up and wrap my legs around him before he gets his next breath out. 

“You don't know how hard it is to be a good guy around you.” His chin rests on the top of my head and I can feel the heat of his words through my hair. The sensation is wonderful but my brain can't stop processing that sentence long enough to function a string of words to respond with. Hold on, I might just hop on right now, public places and predator lists be damned.

“Huh?” That must take the cake for most eloquent response in the history of ever. The smirk slips off his face instantly and before I have the chance to think I said something wrong he grips my hips roghly over my dress and pulls me closer against him all the while staring into my face, watching for my reaction. Which must look stupid. My eyes go wide and my jaw falls as I let out a silent, “Oh.”

Someone get me a dictionary because all thoughts that create words have evacuated my mind. He isn't holding me in comfort anymore. He's holding me like a man holds and woman. A touch of intentions and want and desires. My body is in high demand for more of it. 

“You have no idea how hard it was to stay in the car and not drag you up to your bedroom.” He smiles brightly down at me like a little kid finally letting go of a secret they couldn't manage to keep in. “You should probably know that I'm aware of all the years you've been watching me out of the corner of your eye. I know you've been watching me because I've been watching you. You're all that I see sometimes.”

Holy shit, man. That was smooth.He's struck me -in the face with an aluminum baseball bat- speechless. I feel like I've crossed over into some other world. I push back from his deliciously firm chest and try not to let me fingers cling to the soft fabric there before jumping few steps back. His hands trail down my side leaving little streams of liquid fire as he reluctantly lets me go. I hold my index finger up in the universal sign for Shut the Fuck Up for a Second, Please. 

“What? Do you… are you saying that you want me?” I ask unsurely, my face wrinkling as my voice goes quiet like I'm whispering a dirty piece of gossip. He smiles and nods his head in the affirmative. “Like how I want you?”

“Like Barbie Dream Home, millions of babies, and Nascar sex?” He bites his lip but it does nothing to stop the roar of deep-bellied laughter spilling forth out of his teasing mouth. My shoulders sink and I glare down at my shoes so he doesn't see my face burning as his mirth echoes around us in the alley. If he's making fun of me then I don't want to remember what his face looks like while he's doing it. I hear him sigh and then his voice softens. “I want you Charlie. I want you smiling up at me and stealing my beers. I want to dance with you to our favorite songs. I want you to touch me instead of sitting on your hands and squeezing your legs together when you're next to me. I want to kiss your neck while you're on your knees in front of me. I want you to kiss all the places on me that I've dreamed of kissing on you. I want to claim you in a way that no man will ever think twice about touching you. And yes, I want you for the rest of my life. Like doves or river otters, because they mate for life too and apparently they have crazy river otter sex.” 

“Woah,” I breathe out. Look at me, I am one skilled mother fucker when it comes to words. Of course he knows doves mate for life. He knows all those useless facts. This further proves he's my soul-mate. Bass Monroe has always been my be-all and end-all. It feels like my heart and soul exploding into shining bright cascading fireworks when I realize I'm his be-all and end-all too. “That's pretty specific.”

“Well,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. “I had a long time to figure it out. Probably not as long as you but I caught on eventually.” He steps close to fill in the gap between us and palms my cheek. “You are worth the wait.”

“Oh? I'm worth the wait? What about all those women you date?” Oh shit, I don't mean to let the jealous bitch out but there she is. I'd hoped to keep her under wraps for my entire life but this evening has been emotionally exhausting. There's absolutely no way I can keep a lid on every damn emotion tonight. His eyebrows pop up and he smiles lovingly down at me despite my hateful words.

“Miles keeps setting me up but I usually end up ditching them or never calling them back. You sound a little possessive.” He frowns at me and says with surprise, “I had no idea I would like it that much. Can I kiss you yet?”

“Yes?” Oh my God. Yes, please kiss me. Kiss me forever until I lose my breath and die in your arms. He snorts at me and wraps a tendril of my hair around his finger.

“You sound unsure.” He teases.

“Well maybe you won't live up to the expectation I have of you.” I taunt him back.

He looks down at me quietly for a full on minute and I think that maybe perhaps he's changed his mind. “So, I'm competing with myself? Wow, pressure's really on now.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and bring him down to smash his mouth into mine. It's the only way I know how to silence the cockiness the pours from his completely edible lips. And I've been waiting my entire life to do this so he'd better shut the hell up and get on with it. 

Bass catches on quick and slants his lips over mine. I open my mouth and latch on to his bottom lip with my teeth. The little love bite I give him pulls a deep groan out of his chest. I somehow restrain myself from undressing the two of us. He grips me harder and drags me flush against him. I try not to marvel at how well all his hardness fits all my softness but he consumes me in his kiss and all train of thought is immediately derailed. He cups my cheeks and licks a hot line along my top lip before sucking it in and giving it a tender nibble. He opens again and just as I'm about to touch my tongue with his he pulls back and looks down at me. It takes me a minutes to open my eyes and come out of that blissed state of slow hot kisses. His lips around his perfectly trimmed beard and mustache are red and I'm sure I'm rocking a lovely beard burn. Which is fine because I want him all over me like marshmallows on sweet potatoes. His breathing is hot and heavy against my face and he looks like he's in physical pain.

“What's wrong?” I inquire worriedly. 

Oh shit balls. He's probably hit the realization jackpot that I'm an obsessive psychopath and he's way out of my league and this is a terrible idea and there's no way I could hold a his attention because he deserves so much more than a ditzy-

“Stop thinking so loudly. You're gonna hurt yourself.” He frowns at me. 

“Then what did I do wrong?” His answer is to dig his fingers into my dress and grab my hips before rolling his own into mine. I can feel him hard and hot on my tummy. My fingers twitch to wrap around him. “Oh.”

“Like I said it's not easy to be a good guy around you.” He reaches between us to shift himself in his pants and tries to take a deep calming breathe as does so. Suddenly I know what I want. What I want to do. Right now. The troublemaker in me is delighted with my sinful thoughts and my heart lurches out of my chest as I make a reach for his hand. I turn and start pulling him behind me. He fumbles his first step but easily matches my quick pace after. “Where are we going?”

“It sucks being a good guy. And right now I want to be very bad with you.”

This time he follows me all the way up to my apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Few things!  
> 1) Jaq, you have ruined me. My OTP will always be Charloe but now you've turned me into a Starcy fan. I don't know what to do with my life anymore. Steve/Darcy/Bucky- never thought I'd have an OT3, but life's full of surprises.  
> 2)I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it. You're all so lovely, thanks for the comments!  
> 3)I made up like three words in this. Look at me, Shakespearing that shit up. (Yes, I verbed that. And that, too)  
> 4) Of course there will be smut, you silly goose.  
> 


	4. I was thinking about sexing you up. It distracts me. A lot.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This _is_ the part where we sex each other up, right?

“You live on the fourth floor?” He frowns as we make it to my level.

“Yeah. You were conveniently out of town when Dad, Danny, uncle Miles and Aaron helped me move.” I explain, pulling him along the hall. I haven't let go of his hand yet- which displays my awesome dexterity when I had to dig my keys out of my purse and unlock the door downstairs. But he hasn't pulled away from me either, despite our sweaty palms. Maybe he's excited. Or nervous. 

No, wait. That's me. _I'm_ excited. _I'm_ nervous. 

“Oh. Yeah. Conference or something. Thought I would have heard about you complaining about it by now. Sounds like a pain in the ass. Do you think there's maybe an elevator around here that you just overlooked or something?”

“Getting all my shit up here _was_ a pain in the ass. I don't want to have to move my furniture and clothes and stuff ever again. That's too much work. I think I'd rather just burn all my belongings than drag them down four flights of stairs.” I say slowing us down until we come to a stop in front of my door. He snorts when he notices the elegant cursive words on my welcome mat. 

_I love it when you wipe your feet on me._  
_It makes me feel so dirty._

“Don't even start. It spoke to me at the outlet mall and basically jumped in my hands begging me to take it to a good forever home.” I explain with a shrug. He makes a show of slowly wiping the bottom of his shoe on the mat and then suggestively wiggles his eyebrows which makes up both break out into fits of laughter that echo loudly in the empty hallway. 

We both freeze when a door down the hall starts jiggling as its' locking mechanisms are being opened. I scramble to unlock my door and grab him by the shirt to pull him in before gently shutting it behind us. While I'm hanging my purse on the hook behind the door he walks further inside. Bass stands in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets, looking around him at what I've collected and displayed. 

He takes in the colorful array of pillows on the Mohair style yellow velvet couch and chair. Besides the bed that couch is the comfiest damn thing I've ever slept on. A giant print of Hokusai's The Great Wave of Kanagawa is framed and hanging above the couch. He toes off his shoes and steps onto the massive Persian rug to get closer to inspect everything on the far wall. He fingers the soft sheer fabric of the light cornflower blue curtains at one of the windows. Long Japanese scrolls with painted women in flowing red kimonos flank the windows and he pauses at one to look at all the tiny details the artist included. He runs the pad of his fingers along the already warm pink globe of an old oil lamp fashioned to work for the modern century and stops to peruse the giant shelf that Miles and Dad bitched and complained about the entire way up the stairs. 

It's filled with everything. The Hunchback of Notre Dame, The Prophet by Kahlil Girbran, a book Miles gave to me that explained Operation Desert Storm, a fucking huge and heavy first edition of Merriam Webster's Dictionary from 1943. Travel books about Greece, Turkey, Russia, Tel Aviv, and Cozumel. Then all the classics: Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, A Tale of Two Cities, Carrie, 1,001 Arabian Nights (no, that book is impossible to fucking finish), Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and soooooo many more that I could never ever part with.

Then he picks up one of the pictures on the top shelf. _Oh my God, don't look at that and put it back down!_

Then he looks up at me and I realize the brain to mouth filter is exhausted and hasn't had the chance to reboot itself yet. “This is fucking adorable.” He says genuinely. 

It's a picture of us taken by either my Dad or Miles. I can't remember exactly. But I know I'm around five or six because I have my Thumbelina costume (I'll admit it- I slept in that thing and wore it to daycare all the damn time) on over pink flannel pajamas and my hair is sticking up in odd directions like some Cynthia Doll reject. Bass is sitting next to me in what I assume are pajama sweats and a t-shirt on my Beauty and the Beast sleeping bag in the living room at my parent's. In one of his hands is a yellow Power Ranger and in my arms I lovingly hold a Barbie (my Barbie dolls were never allowed to date losers like Ken) with missing chunks of hair. We're both grinning at the camera. He gently sets the frame back on the shelf among the other photos of Danny and I, pictures of my mom and dad when they were younger and us on family vacations, in my Sunday clothes (back when I use to go churching) holding onto the hands of my Grandpa and Grandma Porter, and then the handful of photos I have with Bass and Miles. Perhaps he won't notice there's the equivalent of a shit-ton more photos of him and I than there are of anyone else. The high rise of his brows and the smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as he steps away from the shelf tells me he totally spotted it.

Well, he hasn't run away screaming. 

_Yet._

I sort of feel like he's touched all the important parts of my life without laying a finger on me. But he really should start laying his fingers on me and less on the artifacts of my life. Or maybe, if he feels inclined, he could strategically drape his body across mine. And then deliberately rock his fun parts against my fun parts. 

Ya know, just a thought.

His head cocks to the side and he looks at me harder with steel blue eyes.

Wait is he reading my mind?

 _Are you reading my mind? Because if you are, I want to feel your body all over mine!_

Something in his demeanor shifts and then he walks- NO, I mean stalks me from the other side of the room, his eyes holding mine. I feel like a deer struck with unmovable terror as a (sexy) car comes barreling at me on a deserted highway. When he's two feet away from me he stops. 

Sex waves. That's the only way I can explain the things rolling off of us. Those little tingles that make you shiver just before something big is about to happen. And even though I've been waiting for this moment for forever I feel frozen in time. Like a sudden movement will make the scene disappear before my eyes like some evil Houdini trick. Or the wrong uttered word will break the “May I politely ask you to throw me on the comfiest couch in existence and ruin me for all other men?” sticky, thick tension. His eyes go wide and his pupils dilate for a moment as thoughts spin around in his head. 

“I am going to have so much fun ruining you, Charlie.” He says quietly between us. Well, that certainly didn't break the tension. But it did make my knees nearly buckle. Who the hell can say things like that and not expect to be drowning in pussy? I am going to absolutely wreck you too, sweetheart. 

“Okay. Am I thinking out loud again?” I whisper back. 

“Yes.” And then he steps into my space and seizes my face between his hands. I instinctively latch on to him like a parasite. The kiss in the alley will always be my favorite. It's our first of many things. So far, my favorite first of our things. But this kiss he is laying on me- Dear Sweet Mary, Mother in Heaven Who is Looking Down Upon Us and Totally Giving Me a Thumbs Up. Or maybe not. But the way he smooths his thumbs along my jaw and pulls my lips apart with his teeth before sweeping inside and so wonderfully taking over me is the closest thing to nirvana. I don't care what the Sciencey people say- this is the reason tongues were invented. I shutter to drag in a breath between us because he is actually stealing it. Yes, like in something cheesy Hallmark way. I'm not totally ashamed of the loud keening that comes from somewhere in the back of my throat that sounds like I'm swallowing water. I'm definitely not ashamed of it when it makes him slide a hand down to my ass to smash our hips together. There's a rhythm about to start between us and then he steps back and I feel like screaming at him to mount me before I set him on fire.

“Stop doing that!” I scream with childish foot stomping. Or nearly scream if I weren't panting like I just finished running a 4k… or walking up the four flights of stairs.

He holds his hands up and takes another three steps back. Really? I'm practically leaking out of my panties and every single spot he'd touched me earlier is on fire and I just want him between my legs and everything that comes after that! My eyes dart over and down to the couch. If he took ten more steps back I could tackle him and rip his shirt off. He waves a hand in front of my face and then snorts when he gets my attention. 

“I'm not sure you zoning out after that is a good thing or a bad thing.”

“I was thinking about getting freaky-nasty and sexing you up on the couch. The thought of it distracts me a lot during the day.” 

“Sexing me up?” He says with quiet mirth.

“Or down. Whichever you prefer.” I lick my lips and give him a dirty once over, pausing briefly to note the party in his pants.

“Hold your horses, Red.” 

“Red?” I frown, momentarily distracted. My attention span is shorter than a squirrel that got flattened two days ago on the road.

“Pollard.”

“Oh, Seabiscuit's jockey.” I nod and he grins. “So why are we not stripping off our clothes yet?”

“I think you should know a few things before I-” He gulps and looks down. Bass is either trying to think of something to say or he's about to ditch me and follow his second thoughts. “Before we do this.” There is an unidentifiable edge to his tone. It's softer than what I’d expected in this moment.

“Like safe words?”

“Safe words are for people who play it safe.” He comments with a small smile when he notes that my eyes go a little wide with all the dirty thoughts I have of him. I'm pretty sure we're going christen every surface of my apartment before tomorrow night. And I'm totally okay with that. I don't mind if we break my coffee table. It's not even that pretty and it was super cheap. It honestly doesn't even look that sturdy. “No, I was going to say that I've done this a lot of times.”

“Wow. That's probably not something you should start off with.” I interject with a frown.

“What I'm trying to say is that I've done this a lot.” He silences me again with a stern look before I can open my mouth. “But this time will be different.”

“Oh? And what makes it different?”

“You.”

“Me?” I question unconvinced.

“You.” He nods. “You say that I mean the world to you, but you mean the universe to me. I lived my life loving you in one form or another. I've always wanted you to be happy. Now I want to be the one who makes you happy. Whether it's fate's idea or nosy bartenders- we were meant to be together. You're the realest person I've ever met. And you make me want to be the best version of myself. And like I said, I've done it a lot- sleeping with women who didn't mean anything to me on the grand scale of things. But this is different. Because this is you and-” I stop him mid-sentence when I hold up my hand.

“Ya know, you don't have to make a big speech to get my clothes off right?” I pull my dress off over my head (briefly wondering if I'm wearing a good panty and bra set) and toe off my lose converses.

“Holy shit.” Is all he can say as he takes me in. At first I feel like I should run into my bedroom and scream at him until he leaves. Until he grins at me. And starts unbuttoning his shirt. “As long as we're on the same page.”

 _Holy shit is right, dude._ He's not even out of his clothes yet and I'm already imagining our crazy river otter sex.

“The page that says we're most likely going to be together until the end of time?” I ask hopefully as he moves closer. Woah, I think I can feel the heat coming off his body. His giant God of Olympus Body. 

“No, I meant the one where I'm going to be the only man who you'll let touch you like this. The only one you'll scream for.” Bass rubs a hand down the back of my arm drawing out a shiver and a trail of goosebumps until his hand reaches mine and clasps it tightly. “Because you're it for me Charlotte. You're my happy ending. And I think the page you're referring to is the last one. Also, you forgot to add the Happily Ever After part.” He pulls me to him and leans down to softly kiss my cheek before pulling back to strip himself of his shirt and under-shirt. His eyes land on my dress and shoes on the carpet. “I'm assuming we undress in the living-room?” I shrug my shoulders and he nods before turning to the shelf and turning on my wireless speaker before pulling his phone out of his pants pocket. I curiously watch as he fiddles with the bluetooth feature and when I hear the first drum beat of my favorite Ronettes song I roll my eyes. 

He's perfect. Just too damn perfect.

And then his pants and briefs slide down his legs to the floor and I nearly fall over from the sight of his ass. I mean, because he going full on nude. And holy shit, are those dimples? 

“No one must ever lay eyes on those dimples ever again. They are mine. I'm claiming them right now for eternity.” I say in all honesty. The muscles in his shoulders and back clench as he laughs.

“You're making me feel like you only want me for my body.” He turns around and I have a hard time focusing on the teasing tone of poutiness in his voice. He is a perfect male specimen. Muscled arms and legs lightly dusted with golden hair. Broad shoulders that I will probably be digging my nails into tonight. A chest with actual pecs that I'm having a hard time believing exists outside of Hollywood and music videos. His abs, I need to touch them. When I reach my hand out to run my fingers across the expanse of his chest and abdomen the muscles there contract and his cock bobs with impatience. It is the most aesthetically pleasing cock I've ever seen.

“I like it when you talk sometimes, too.” I whisper smartly. Then I laugh at myself. I slide the straps of my bra off my shoulders and unclasp it in the back. He takes in a deep calming breath when it lands next to my dress. I step in to his space to press a kiss to his chest before taking his hand again and pulling him down the hall to my bedroom. 

The little silk and beaded lamp on my vanity makes us glow gold and lavender. I keep the door open so I can hear the music as it changes to the only Elvis Presley song I like (okay, the first time I heard it I was like seven and I cried). He crawls on top of the bed to me and starts slow and it melts my heart how much love he puts into every little kiss from my shin to the corner of my lips. 

“I should have told you this before we started-” He begins.

“We've already started. This is foreplay.” A hot huff of his breath blows against my cheek as he softly laughs.

“I love you.” He says quietly. “I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you. I will always love you.” The weight of his words make me gulp. There is an undeniable truth in what he says. I know because I have felt it. I can feel it as he looms above, looking down at me like I'm the only part of the world that matters to him.

“I will always love you too, Bass.” I whisper up at him. Oh man. That smile he's giving me. I reach up between us and pull his face down to mine. All sweet pecks have turned into hungry lip action. I suck in his flavor and taste it with my tongue until I can memorize it. He takes his time though, slipping in and tasting me and biting down with gentleness on my lips. His hands brush against me in all the places but where I need him to be. I don't even realize I'm rocking myself up against his thigh until he tears his mouth away from mine with a moan and his hand slides beneath my underwear to palm my ass cheek and grind himself down onto my thigh.

I hook my hands in my panties and we both lift up so he can pull them off. He flings them somewhere over his shoulder. When he looks back down at me it is with apprehension and longing. And then he folds into himself with a whine when I lick my hand and grasp him. “Oh fuck.” He drawls out with a hiss as I give him a few pumps. I instantly notice he's incredibly well endowed. And not one those instances where guys are really long but have no girth or vice versa. No, he's the PERFECT male specimen. And I want him inside me right now before I bring myself off just by touching him. 

“Okay. That's enough foreplay for me. You seem ready to go. Now get inside me before I tie you to the bed fuck you into it.” It stops him for a second and opens his mouth to speak again. “Pill. Pill works fine. Ruin me like you promised.” He pulls one of my legs up and my chest tightens when I feel him rub the head of his cock against me. I go into little spasms that steal my breath. 

“Are you sure?” He asks. Which is polite an I'm sure it will mean the world to me later.

“Were you there at all tonight? Nascar, remember?” He sinks slowly inside of me and every move I make to take him deeper stills him until I'm sure he's trying to drive me insane. I start rocking my hips and tilting up to rub my clit against his groin when he is finally fully seated in me. It's like being filled with heaven. And then he pulls out and slams into me. “Oh God! No you totally remember. Gold, star! Keep going, please please...”

My words melt into nothing with each thrust. The mattress creaks and the headboard violently hits the wall, shaking the shelves and rattling the poster and picture frames. I'm pretty sure something falls and crashes to the floor but I urge him to keep going. I grab onto the rails above my head to keep myself in place as he invades me. The slap of his skin against mine drives me into a frenzied state of lust. Its like a beautiful symphony of sex. A deep reserve of liquid fire has flooded throughout my veins. I've become lighter than the air itself and he's the only thing capable of holding me down. He reaches up to palm my breasts and pull at my neglected nipples. It makes my entire body gravitate up towards his hands. 

“Oh my God. Oh my God.” I wail beneath him. “I love the way it sounds when you fuck me.” 

“You're pretty vocal.” He breathes heavily.

“Problem? _Oh, yeeeeeeesssssss_. Stay right there.”

“Hell no. I just never imagined you to have such a dirty mind.” He hunches down to kiss my forehead. 

“Harder. Fuck me harder… make me cum, Bass. Make me fucking cum.” I beg. It raises his eyebrows. I know. The zero brain to mouth filter goes way out of hand when I'm getting my brain fucked out through my pussy. 

“Don't worry, doll. I'm gonna get you there. God, you're so tight.” He grinds the words out between his teeth. 

Then he lifts my legs higher and fucks me deeper hitting something that makes the sound of my soul escape my throat like an unholy creature. **"Fuck. Holy fucker fucking fuck. _Fuck me just like that, please!"_** I squeeze around him, watching as his brows crease as he falters in his movements. I push up against him, straining to reach that special place and take him there with me. This right here is why the world was created and spins around at such an achingly slow pace. For this moment between us. My arms fly out, fingers digging into his shoulders for purchase as we push and rock against each other. Dizziness sets inside my head just as I feel a dam of pleasure pour out of my core and strike my body like little bursts of lightening. Above me he whimpers an unintelligible stream of words that sound like they could be sweet and loving. I'm floating higher than the hipsters who were secretly blazing outside of the bar. He fucks me through my orgasm until he finishes his. I can see shimmery stars. That's how well-fucked I am. I'm seeing stars. Or on the verge of blacking out. Another familiar song comes but I am way too blissed out to recognize it.

 

“Can we please do that again?” My voice is hoarse and my eyes are heavy. “Like a thousand more times? I don't want to leave my bed. And if you try to leave it then I'm going to tie you to it. Actually I think I'm going to pass out. Please don't leave.” 

Bass rolls to the side and pulls my back into his chest. “I've just got you. I'm not ever going to leave you, Charlie.” The fluffy sea-green duvet I keep at the end of the bed covers us and I fade into his words and warmth.

 

 

 

My eyes pop open when a loud boom of thunder shakes me awake. The crack of lightning that follows makes my ears ring. Bass is next to me curled into my pillow. Was he smelling my hair before he fell asleep? I'm not sure if that's weird or endearing. Eh, maybe a bit of both. But mostly the former, I decide as I slip out of bed. He's kind of a cover hog. But he was kind of covering me with himself so I guess that evens it out. 

I slip down the hallway and turn out the lights bathing the room in deep gray hues as the storm shakes the trees outside and plasters the window screen with fat drops of rain. Our clothes are scattered around my living room floor so I gather his stuff and fold them over the back of the arm chair. Because I'm awesome like that. 

Hold on. Does this make us… like a thing? He said some pretty convincing things last night. Should we go on a few dates before-

Nope, that's a stupid idea. Shut up, brain. You and Heart have been in love with him for all our life. Bass really is our Prince Charming and now we finally get to have our sunsets and Nascar sex. Another crack of lightening directs my eyes to the window. Oh well. Sunsets are stupid, I always liked rainy days more than sunny ones. 

A light catches my eyes from the side of the room on my shelf. Bass' phone is next to the speakers and I… am curious. I wonder if he has a photo on his lock screen? I press the button on the side and fumble madly not to drop the phone.

It us (and Miles) on Danny's birthday last year in August. I remember that day very well. He pushed me into the pool. It's a group picture taken from Miles' phone just a few minutes after I tackled Bass into the pool as he was getting ready to go in for another bottle of seasonal signature bullshit beer he and my Dad love. It was hilarious though. Miles, Danny and Dad were laughing so hard they practically collapsed upon each other. Bass had tried to pull me in under the guise of helping him out. 

“I'm twenty-three. Not stupid, Bass.”

“What if I had my phone in my pocket?” He had asked with a scowl.

“You mean the one on the bar next to your empty bottle? It was either this or wiring your car horn to your brakes. This took less time. Besides, I warned you. I told you I would get you back.” I had shrugged carelessly down at him.

“Fair point, kiddo. But you never gave me the chance to get down on my knees and beg for your mercy.” He grinned up at me with a wink.

Holy mixed signals, Batman.

But I guess this just means he's been thinking of me as much as I've been thinking of him. I smirk to myself and place it gently next to the speaker. On the way out I grab an extra blanket from the hallway closet. When I get back to my room Bass is still glowing gold and purples from the lamp on the vanity but he's leaning against the headboard, arms crossed over his chest and eyes dragging up and down my form.

“Do you normally flounce around the apartment naked?” His voice is gruff with sleep.

“Flouncing isn't a usual occurrence for me. Naked is, though. I like to air dry and the second I get off work I start stripping.” I grin saucily at him before spinning around to turn off the light. Another bellow of thunder and flashes of lightening colors the room in vivid white for a second. He looks absolutely devilish- like some kind of crazed man ready to pounce on me with the ferocity of a demon. But that's ridiculous. Sebastian Monroe is the smartest, kindest, level-headed, and most gentle man I've ever encountered. I easily see his boyish grin the closer I get to the bed. I notice he's crawled under the covers. He lifts a corner up for me to curl back in beside him.

“Are we going to be one of those couples who doesn't wear clothes to bed? Because I think that could be a positive lifestyle change for me.” He wraps himself around me and buries his nose into the side of my pillow.

“Unless we're having sex I'm going to be wearing pajamas. I'm afraid spiders will crawl inside me and lay eggs.” He shakes the bed and his laughter bounces off the walls. “Don't make fun of me. I seriously worry about that.”

“Alright. I promise I will protect your honor from rapey spiders. What's the agenda for today?” He asks, his voice going soft with sleep.

“We start the rest of our lives together.” I interlock our fingers and squeeze his hand. I kiss his knuckles before closing my eyes and focusing on the rain and the sound of his breathes and the feel of his chest as he inhales and exhales behind me.

“Sounds perfect.” He says, squeezing me back. “Wednesday dinner is going to be fun.”

“Or something relative to fun,” I manage to say through a yawn.

He kisses the back of my head and whispers, “We'll get through it. I love you, Charlotte.” into my hair. It's the last thing I hear before he wakes me up later that afternoon.

With his face between my legs.

He totally blew my expectations of imaginary Bass out of the deepest depths of the fucking ocean.

I lied. _This_ is what tongues are for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this instead of sleeping. I was on a roll so...  
> Anywho! I hoped you enjoyed it. Laughed a bit and maybe cringed some.  
> I have absolutely loved writing this and reading all your responses. You are all lovely and wonderful.  
> Now! Back to In My Space.  
> To break your hearts!  
> And make you cry!  
> Maybe.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd write something a little upbeat. I've never written in first person so extensively before so I hope this reads well and leaves you laughing.
> 
> Did anyone catch the little shout out to The Office?

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Could you guys stop doing that?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4417028) by [thedarkestdaisy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkestdaisy/pseuds/thedarkestdaisy)




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